One of the incredible experiences included in this trip, was getting to go into the home of a working Irish dairy farm and sit and talk with the family who owns it. We arrived to the farm near Kilmallock and were immediately greeted by Paddy and Margaret Fenton. We then departed with Paddy as he took us to the lower end of the Dairy Farm for a tour of the milking operation. Paddy then took us into one of the rooms in the old house and showed us photos of his ancestors and leases from the past. He described the stories of how his grandfather's grandfather lived through several plagues and earthquakes and wars. He described the role that church has played in his life. Paddy was born in 1942. They have 4 sons and 1 daughter. He talked extensively about the ownership of the land.

Their families initially lived as tenant farmers. They were finally able to buy the land from the British government and had a 50 year mortgage, but then the Irish government took over, so the mortgage began again. "It didn't stop there, the Anglican Church wanted their share; if you didn't pay you lost your furniture. and then the Catholic Church stepped in and if you didn't pay you could not have Sacraments. Finally in 1961 the mortgage was paid. but the Catholic Church continues to want their share."

The family was very simple but yet their was so much complexity to their lifestyle trying to keep up with modern farming techniques and equipment. One simple pleasure Paddy recalled as we talked later was how he walks down to the pub on the weekends around ten o’clock at night and doesn’t come back until the wee hours. He said “Irish just don’t wake up in the morning”.

Paddy Fenton closed our tour with him by reciting this emotional poem in his deep Irish brogue:

What is All When All is Told

O' What is all when all is told,
This ceaseless tolling for fame and gold,
The fleeting joy of bitter tears,
We're only here for a few short years.
Nothing's our own save the silent past,
Loving or hating - no thing can last,
Each pathway leads to a silent fold,
O' what is all when all is told.

What is it all a grassy mound,
Where day or night there is never sound,
Save the soft low moan of the fanning breeze,
As it lovingly rustles the silent trees.
Or a thoughtful friend with whispered prayer,
May sometimes break the stillness there,
Then hurry away from the gloom and the cold,
O' what is all when all is told.

What is it all just passing true,
A cross for me and a cross for you,
Ours seems heavy while others seem light,
But God in the end makes all things right.
He tempts the mind with loving care,
He knows the burden that each can bear,
Then turns life's grey into loving gold,
O' what is all when all is told.

I hope you enjoy these images of this wonderful piece of modern Irish history.
Mark